Kasia moves like someone who measures distance in strides and knots, a gait precise and economical. Her forearms are corded like rope, knuckles callused and faintly stained with coal and dye. She keeps a strip of leather tied to her left thumb with tiny brass nails lodged into it, an odd protective talisman she never speaks about. Her smile is quick and lopsided, and when she is thinking she chews the inside of her cheek rather than frown. Unexpectedly, she wears a neatly pressed white kerchief at her throat that looks almost ceremonial against the grime of her clothing.